"Sure," growled Regin Naylo. "They could either stay or run. Since they didn't stay, they—"
"Stop being smart," snapped Viggon Sarri. "Or weren't you listening?"
"Yes, I was."
"Then you should realize that what they were doing was behaving sensibly. Just what would you do, Naylo, if you were wandering through a woods unarmed and a large, unknown, and completely unexpected beast leaped out on your path?"
Naylo sneered. "I'd run."
"Then what?"
Naylo's eyes widened. He said at last, "I'd run until I got where I could get armed, then I'd probably go back hunting the beast."
"Exactly. But not too good an analogy, which is my fault. They did not run in abject terror. They sent scouts to spy us and report our strength as best they could. Then they retreated. There's a difference. They reported home, but retreated to their base or bases, because they knew that they could do no good by hurling themselves on us."
"They want to arm themselves?"
"Precisely."